


baby, this ain't truth or dare

by ellatrobbie



Series: Five Stages of Truth (or Dare) [1]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, I guess this is AU now, Post The Kiss, Post ep: 1x18, so lets run with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:37:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellatrobbie/pseuds/ellatrobbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She did the right thing, nipping this Hot Doctor thing in bud before things got out of hand." // Post 1x18 because how was anyone supposed to just walk away from that kiss. // Denial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	baby, this ain't truth or dare

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay.  
> 1) This is my first real smut thing I've ever written and I still can't decide whether it's decent or terrible so please bear with me. 
> 
> 2) Almost entirely inspired by Ride by Somo, which I found on a mind-blowingly good Quintis 8tracks mix, so go find it bc wow. (The rest of the mix was good inspiration too)

She sighs loudly, staring at the ceiling. It’s been at least an hour since she’d given up trying to focus on anything and called it a night. But instead of sleeping she’s been tossing and turning, her mind buzzing, feeling hot and _feeling hot_.

She’d slap him if it didn’t mean admitting he’s actually affected her like this. She’s supposed to be in control, and the kiss was supposed to be the end of it. But the slow burn that had sparked when he’d yelled at that doctor had only grown after she’d kissed him. The shrink was stupidly good with his mouth, even when she caught him off guard, and it made her wonder what else he was good at.

 _No_. She stops herself; she’s been fighting thoughts like this all evening and she needs to nip this in the bud before it makes her even more crazy. She sits up, reaches over to turn on a light and open the top drawer of her nightstand. She pulls out her vibrator, designed and engineered by herself to cater in every way she needs. But her sidekick suddenly feels light and weak. Even before she starts she knows this fire can’t be doused so easily tonight.

“Fuck,” she mutters and pulls herself out of bed. She finds the closest jeans and boots and grabs her jacket and leaves her apartment before she can change her mind.

* * *

She knocks on his door more gently than usual, because she doesn’t really want to alert all of his neighbours that this is essentially a booty call. 

She hears a shuffle, then a pause and she knows he’s looking at her through the peephole. 

“Open up, Doc.” 

He does, finally, and he’s standing in front of her in a t-shirt and boxers with messy hair and a concerned, sleepy look on his face. “Is everyth-” 

She doesn’t even let him finish, just reaches out and pushes him back inside, into the nearest wall and then pulls him down to meet her lips. Somehow the door closes behind them, she thinks maybe she did it with her foot but she can’t be sure and she can’t be bothered to care. 

He takes a second, but goes with it, pushing her jacket off her shoulders before wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her up and closer. His hands trail her back and when he groans into her mouth, she’s pretty sure he’s just figured out she’s not wearing a bra. This is good, but she’s here for more. She jumps up and wraps her legs around his waist and somehow he’s ready for it, turning them around so that her back is against the wall. She likes this new angle, likes the way he’s gripping her thigh, the way her fingers feel against his short hair as she’s gripping his neck. 

She pulls herself away, just enough so she can speak through heavy breaths. “Bedroom,” she directs and he nods, shifts his hands so he can hold them both stable as he steps away from the wall. She kisses him again, bites his bottom lip until he almost stumbles. 

Eventually he lowers her onto the bed as gently as possible, and really she wouldn’t mind making out with him for longer but she’s fully aware that they are both wearing too much clothing. She pushes him off her so she can stand up and make quick work of her boots. 

She’s just about wriggle out of her jeans when she notices he’s staring at her from where he’s sitting on the bed. She knows that look, and its trouble. 

“Not that I’m not thoroughly enjoying this but, uh, what are we doing exactly?” 

She resists the urge run away from the question, mostly because a much stronger urge is why she’s here right now. Instead, she steps out of her pants and stands in front of him in her tank top and underwear. 

“You’re a genius, Doc, work it out,” she replies, and climbs back on the bed to straddle him before he can say anything else. She pulls at his t-shirt, and when it’s gone she eyes him up before pushing him down onto the mattress and kissing him again. The last time she’d seen him shirtless was when he’d accidentally spilled coffee on himself more than a year ago, but he’s definitely been working out. She puts her weight on one arm as her other hand trails his muscles. There’s something, maybe the fact that they’re horizontal, or maybe it’s all the naked skin, but she’s kissing him harder, deeper, the burning desire to feel him growing even stronger. 

His own hands move to her back, his fingers slipping under the cotton and tracing incoherent patterns on her skin and she shivers, bucking her hips against him before she can help herself. She wants more. 

Suddenly, as if he knows, his hand moves to the band of her hipsters. She hums enthusiastically, urging him on. His hand trails further down between them, his fingers slip past her folds and she stops kissing, inhales sharply. She half expects him to make some wise-crack about how wet she is, to completely ruin the whole thing for both of them. But he stays silent, apart from his own heavy breathing, and continues, pushes a finger slowly into her. She realises she’s still holding her breath and exhales slowly, arching her back. He definitely knows what he’s doing, thrusting his finger in a few times before adding a second one and crooking them inside her. She moans, drops her head to his neck. 

The heat is building inside her, stronger than the already overwhelming burn that brought her here, and if she doesn’t get there soon she thinks she might combust. He quickens his pace and adjusts his hand slightly so that his thumb finds her clit. She bucks her hips against him again, and moves her head to find his mouth. His other hand moves under her top to find her breast, and squeezes it gently, his thumb grazing her hard nipple, while he presses his other one against her clit again, moving in circles until she’s shaking, clenching around his fingers so hard that he loses his rhythm. He keeps going, though, as she rides though the waves, until her arms are so weak that she’s basically lying on top of him. She’s panting as she rolls off him, lets her back lie on the cool mattress from a moment, gathering her strength. Her legs feel weak, and her heart is pounding and her lungs ache and _fuck_  she hasn’t felt this good in so long. 

He’s being surprisingly quiet and when she turns her head she catches him licking his fingers, and the fire in her starts all over again. She lets her gaze wonder for a second, down his chest and to his boxers. He’s definitely as keen as she is. 

“Condom?” She asks. 

“Huh?” his head whips around like he’s surprised. “Oh – uh – top drawer,” he says as his eyes pan to the night table. 

She smirks at his uncertainty. She imagines he’s desperately trying to be unassuming about the whole thing, but _really_. Leaning over, she opens the drawer and rummages around for a moment before finding the box. It’s half empty and she catches herself wondering for a moment, before grabbing one and rolling back to him. She drops the condom on his chest and slips her hand into his boxers, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. 

He lets an out a strangled groan. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that. I’m not Magic Mike.” 

She hasn’t even seen Magic Mike, but she’s pretty sure the reference barely works. Anyway, she doesn’t risk it and takes back her hand. He makes quick work of kicking off his boxers while she’s pulling off her tank top. 

He surprises her, because as soon as her arms are down he puts a hand on her waist and pulls her down to the mattress as he leans over her and joins their lips again. He’s taking more control than he did before, holding her face, pressing a knee between her legs. She has her usual preferences, but right now she can’t bring herself to care. Not when she can feel his body fit against hers, his hard length press against her thigh. 

He's taking his time though, so she moves her hands down to his hips and pulls at him until he’s directly over her. She bucks her hips up at him purposefully, needy, and resists the urge to moan when he stops kissing her mouth and moves to her neck. 

He removes his mouth from her completely for a split second, as she widens her legs, and he enters her slowly. She locks her ankles around his hips, meets each of his thrusts with her own. 

One of his arms is holding himself from crushing her, even though she probably wouldn’t mind right now, as long as he didn’t stop moving. He drops his head to press a kiss to her collarbone, and then to her sternum, sucking firmly. She can feel a bruise forming, and she’s glad he’s genius enough to know to do it where is can be hidden. Her own hands are on his back, nails digging in every so often. 

He keeps moving faster and harder and her moans keeps getting lost in gasps as he hits the right angles. He moves a hand down between then, a finger roughly circling against her clit. She keens, pulls his face in for another kiss until she needs to breathe. He pulls out almost all the way, before thrusting back in forcefully, his finger still working her nerves. She feels her orgasm ripple through her as she comes, she digs her nails into his back as she clenches around him and suddenly she can feel him coming as well, his whole body tensing and shaking.

* * *

She wakes up just before 5am, according to his alarm clock. She’s lying on her stomach and he’s draped an arm over her back. She needs to go home and shower, so she can go to work and forget this ever happened. She got what she needed, and she doubts he’d complain. She feels drained, but satisfied, and importantly – _well-fucked_. She did the right thing, nipping this Hot Doctor thing in bud before things got out of hand. 

She gets out of bed slowly, uses the light from the hallway to navigate the room and find her clothes. She’s zipping up her jeans when she hears him shift in bed. She freezes; terrified he’s going to ask her to stay, or worse, to talk about this. 

“Can you lock the door behind you?” He asks, his voice low and rough, and she fights the thought that it sounds hot. She’s surprised actually, that that’s all he has to say and pushes down anything that feels like disappointment. 

“Sure,” she mutters, and grabs her boots in hand before heading out.

* * *

Three hours later she’s feeling better. No, she’s feeling _good_. A shower and hot coffee was what she needed, and well, apparently two great orgasms. She’s finally ready to focus on anything that isn’t the Shrink. 

Until she realises he’s beat her to work. She’s surprised; he doesn’t often come in earlier than her. He’s looks up when she walks in, nodding at her casually. He’s always trying to read her, which is annoying but at least he seems to get the message that she doesn’t want this to be a thing. Whatever her feelings for him, which might be strong but are also varied, she’s not ready to be pushed into some relationship that’s only going to end badly for everyone. And now that she’s got that burning fire out of her, she’s ready for everything to go back to normal. 

She drops her bag on her desk and goes to the back of the garage to pick up the tools she needs. On the way back she finds him, standing in the exact spot she’d kissed him yesterday. He’s looking at her with a slight smirk, his eyes knowing. She sighs; she knew it would be a bad idea to admit she was attracted to him. It’s just going to give his ego a boost that it doesn’t need. 

“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t,” she says before he even has a chance to open his mouth, “Nothing’s changed, we’re still friends, move on.” 

He nods, licks his lips subtly as he appears to consider her words. Something about him looks different today, and she can’t put her finger on it. 

“'Kay,” he concedes, before leaning closer to her a little and hushing his voice, “I was just going to say it’s a shame you left this morning before I had a chance to go down on you.” 

She blinks, his words rolling through her and before she knows it he’s walking back to his desk and she can feel a new spark of heat burning though her. She internalises a loud groan, knows trying to work is pointless since she knows what he can do with his tongue. _Fuck_.

* * *

 

When he opens the door to her that night, he’s definitely less surprised. She ignores it, makes use of his mouth for other reasons and tell herself this isn’t becoming a thing. _It’s not._


End file.
